


but at least the war is over

by sevensevan



Series: pride month 2018 [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unspecified Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 20:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14901362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/sevensevan
Summary: In the end, it's just the two of them.





	but at least the war is over

**Author's Note:**

> do i know what this is? no. is it pretentious kind-of-poetry rambling and sad and gay? yes. i have not seen infinity war and this has nothing to do with canon anyway, there’s just a vague implied apocalypse. i hope you enjoy it.

In the end, it’s just the two of you.

You suppose there’s some poetry in that, maybe. Some beautifully ironic thing, something they’ll tell stories about someday. But they will only remember the heroism, the glory, the victory.

They won’t remember this: the two of you find each other on a battlefield watered with the blood of your friends. He holds you in his arms, or maybe it’s the other way around, and he cries and you sob and you wish you had both died with the rest of them.

They won’t remember this: you carry each other off the battlefield, you with your best friend in one arm and your shield on the other, and he shoots at anything that moves. You stumble away to safety and fall into bed beside each other, like you did when you were children, and you sleep for fifteen hours and it isn’t, it never will be, enough.

They won’t remember this: you wake up alone with blood in your hair, on your skin, under your fingernails, so much blood that the sheets are red around you. Some of it is yours, you think, but you can’t tell the difference anymore. You stand in a scalding shower for fifteen minutes before the water runs clear, and twenty minutes after that before you feel like you can get out again.

They won’t remember this: you wander through empty rooms that belong to the ghosts of your sort-of family until you find him by an open window. You think he might jump, and you know that you’ll jump after him.

They won’t remember this: he kisses you for the first time by that window, surrounded by phantoms and shadows and the watchful memories of everyone you’ve loved since the ice, and you can still taste blood between his teeth.

“It’s over,” you tell him when he lets you breathe, foreheads pressed together, heads bowed by the weight of the end of an era.

“It’s never over,” he tells you with eighty years of ghosts behind his eyes. “It’s never over.”

_It’s never over_ , your mind echoes to itself, alone in its own darkness. _It’s never over_.

You kiss him again, and the wind blows over New York City and in through the open window, and the world will remember him as a monster and you as a martyr, and they will not remember this: two men kissing as the sun rises over the city, always stealing precious moments between this war and the next.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm writing a fic a day for pride month, and i'm taking any and all lgbtq prompts through the end of june. leave a comment or send me an ask on tumblr @daisys-quake. leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed.


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